You Should Love Your Loneliness: 60 Years of Youth Version of the Calligraphy Association

Author: Editorial Board of Wenhuibao Association/Origin: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2006-08-01
Features: From nearly 100,000 published articles, "Sea-selected" more than 200 exquisite masterpieces. Wenhuibao's subsidiary magazine "Association" meticulously edited two anthologies—"Treasure Edition" A Decade of Wind and Emotion and "Youth Edition" Love Your Loneliness—on the occasion of its 60th anniversary, published by Wenhuibao Press. This book Love Your Loneliness is carefully arranged in terms of selection, authors, and thematic categories, highlighting meaningful themes such as positivity, exploration, and reflection, a deep yearning and gratitude for friendship and family, as well as profound respect and pursuit of art and truth. Readers can also sense the youthful spirit of "Association" that remains connected to the pulse of society across different historical periods. The book opens with Wang Meng's famous 1950s essay Youth Forever and concludes with Ni Han's philosophical yet simple Grandma's Call. It is both passionate and deeply relatable. Sixty years of "Association" is not just a history of vicissitudes; nearly every outstanding artist and writer of each era has left their youthful mark on this garden. Passion and tranquility, pursuit and pain, freedom and loneliness, courage and melancholy, songs of joy and anger—years have passed, but those youthful songs remain. Let us listen closely.
From nearly 100,000 published articles, "Sea-selected" more than 200 exquisite masterpieces. Wenhuibao's subsidiary magazine "Association" meticulously edited two anthologies—"Treasure Edition" A Decade of Wind and Emotion and "Youth Edition" Love Your Loneliness—on the occasion of its 60th anniversary, published by Wenhuibao Press. This book Love Your Loneliness is carefully arranged in terms of selection, authors, and thematic categories, highlighting meaningful themes such as positivity, exploration, and reflection, a deep yearning and gratitude for friendship and family, as well as profound respect and pursuit of art and truth. Readers can also sense the youthful spirit of "Association" that remains connected to the pulse of society across different historical periods. The book opens with Wang Meng's famous 1950s essay Youth Forever and concludes with Ni Han's philosophical yet simple Grandma's Call. It is both passionate and deeply relatable. Sixty years of "Association" is not just a history of vicissitudes; nearly every outstanding artist and writer of each era has left their youthful mark on this garden. Passion and tranquility, pursuit and pain, freedom and loneliness, courage and melancholy, songs of joy and anger—years have passed, but those youthful songs remain. Let us listen closely.
Yang Qiyun arrived at the Sun family's door. The small door was pitch black, with couplets written on it: "Splendor of Nature, Brilliance of Talent; Famed Land, Famed People." The calligraphy had faded. The doorbell was attached to the mouth of a carved animal head. Sun's father was a capitalist at the Jianxin Construction Factory. During the "Five Anti-Corruption Campaign," he was arrested for resisting the inspection team and engaging in severe anti-social behavior, but he was recently released. Yang Qiyun arrived at her home, feeling a bit nervous. She knocked lightly on the door, and it creaked open. An old woman poked her head out; her short stature was comical, her hair was neatly coiled, and she wore a white-and-gray apron around her waist. "Who are you looking for?" she asked. "I'm here to see Sun." The little old woman's eyes darted around as she size-d up Yang Qiyun, then she smiled broadly, speaking with a standard Beijing accent: "Oh, you're looking for her? She's not feeling well these days and might be resting." "I'm Sun's classmate, here to visit her illness. If she's sleeping, it's okay to wait a bit." "Then please come in." The old woman led Yang Qiyun through the archway into a spacious siheyuan (a traditional Beijing courtyard with rooms on all four sides). She pointed to a small corridor in the northwest corner and said, "Go through this corridor to a small back courtyard. The second young mistress lives in the east room of the northern house." Yang Qiyun didn't understand what a "second young mistress" was, but later she realized it and couldn't help but laugh.
Yang Qiyun arrived at the back courtyard and climbed the steps to the northern house, calling out, "Sun!" The white silk curtains on the window of the east room were drawn back, revealing Sun's face. Yang Qiyun ran into the room without waiting for an invitation. She took Sun's hand and sat on the bedside. The bed was near the window, facing south. Sun was half-sitting up, her bedding in disarray. Yang Qiyun picked up the corner of the bedding that had fallen to the floor and glanced around the room. In the northeast corner stood a neglected bookshelf, with books and newspapers scattered haphazardly. Next to the bookshelf was a small wicker table with a bamboo pen holder and a porcelain vase, but there were no pens or flowers. Opposite the bookshelf were toiletries. On the wall hung bamboo paintings by Zheng Banqiao and a crude painting—not much better than a monthly calendar—that depicted a woman swinging on a swing, along with a color photograph of the Three Ponds at West Lake. A small table was placed beside Sun's bed, holding medicine bottles, a thermos, and a water bowl. Yang Qiyun, with her keen sense of smell, detected a strange, discordant scent—medicine, soap, old paper, old paintings, and Sun's bedding. She sniffed and said, "Let's open the window above, the air isn't good." Sun hesitated, "My upper respiratory tract..." Yang Qiyun looked outside. "It's not windy today, and the sun is out. Opening the window will be good for you."
As Yang Qiyun climbed onto the windowsill to open the small window above, she noticed a book on the sill—Ghost Love by Xu Jie. She came down, picked up the book, and flipped through it suspiciously. Sun lowered her head as if she had done something wrong. "Heavens, what are you reading?" "I'm sick, reading other books makes me too tired," Sun explained defensively. Yang Qiyun said angrily, "Ghost Love—look at the title, it's a messy book, full of ghosts and love. You're too tired to read other books, but this one doesn't make you angry?" Sun had no reply and rubbed the corner of the bedding, looking pitiful. Yang Qiyun asked about her health. She said, "Nothing serious. I love headaches, and it's not a new problem. I get headaches whenever I'm upset. My brain is broken." "Broken brain?" "I'm getting dumber and dumber, my memory and comprehension are terrible. When I lie in bed, sometimes my head buzzes, and it hurts like needles. I'm scared." Sun picked up her pillow and placed it on her knee, stroking it tenderly. "Don't scare yourself," Yang Qiyun said, concerned and anxious. "I've met you before, I know you're not stupid, and your brain isn't broken. You just love to paint yourself in gray. Maybe it's because you're stifled in the house that you think this way." Sun looked at Yang Qiyun gently, moved closer to her, and shook her head. "I'm a bit scared, afraid I won't keep up with my studies, afraid I'll fail the exams, and if I fail the makeup exam, I'll be held back a grade." "You really are!" Yang Qiyun said, displeased. "A person is already in good health, and they think, 'If I catch a cold, I might get sick. If I get sick, I might be disabled. If I'm disabled, I might die.' Isn't that just making trouble? All the classmates in our class are working hard to study better, none of them give up. The class is like a boiling pot, but why do you think so negatively?"
Footsteps interrupted Yang Qiyun's passionate words. A tall, slightly hunched man entered the room gracefully. Seeing Yang Qiyun, he wanted to retreat but gave a slight nod instead. "This is my brother," Sun introduced. Yang Qiyun stood up, and he quickly said, "Please sit." Then he shook Yang Qiyun's hand lightly with fingers yellowed from smoking. Yang Qiyun noticed his long, curly hair partially covering his eyes and his wide, wrinkled forehead, a frail kind of beauty. He introduced himself, "Su Jun." Yang Qiyun also said her name. He looked at Yang Qiyun as if he wanted to say something, but after a moment of silence, he turned and walked toward the bookshelf. Suddenly, he coughed violently and bent over. Yang Qiyun recalled Sun mentioning this brother—he was the son of Sun's father's second wife, several years older than Sun. Sun loved him but was also afraid of him. He had grown up in the countryside, learning classical Chinese and painting from his maternal grandfather, who was a xiucai (a scholar in the late Qing dynasty). Later, he studied Chinese at university but nearly committed suicide after a breakup and then contracted severe tuberculosis, staying at home for recovery since 1948. Su Jun put down the book he was flipping and walked over, taking out several apples—giving the largest to Yang Qiyun, the middle one to Sun, and the smallest to himself. Yang Qiyun didn't use his knife and wiped the apple with a handkerchief, biting into it happily. "You're Yang Qiyun?" "Yes, no mistake." Yang Qiyun smiled. She often used bold and innocent attitudes to break the ice with strangers. Su Jun smiled slightly. He said, "That's great. I often hear my sister talk about how you've helped her a lot. You're her good friend, right? Thank you." P3-5